


When Fears Run, You Run Too

by angelsfallingdeancatch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, POV Malia Tate, Past Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Running Away, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9902708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfallingdeancatch/pseuds/angelsfallingdeancatch
Summary: Scott and Malia have a little family with their son, but things are more complicated than it seems. When their son asks why he has two fathers, Stiles and Scott, and why Stiles doesn't live with them, Malia thinks about how they've gotten this far after so many years.





	1. Chapter 1

Malia placed the crust-less toast on a plate, carrying it to the counter without much thought. A boy with a big smile sat there, legs dangling off the chair, fork in hand. She winked and drizzled some maple syrup on the bread and the plate, making the child giggle as he stabbed at it with abandon. Malia joined him in his laughter and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. She mused that it was too long and she’d have to get it cut soon. She hadn’t let it grow this much since high school. Noah slammed his fork onto the granite counter, making her jump and narrow her eyes.

“Noah, why,” she tried to say, but her son cut her off with a flair. He threw up his hands and put them on his tiny hips, his gaze serious and intense for an eight year old. 

“I have a question,” he announced, staring down his mother, who had forgotten to be a disciplinarian in favor of her curiosity. 

“Okay, Noah, what is your question,” she asked, sitting in the chair next to him and putting her chin in her hands. 

Noah took a deep breath, like he was inhaling courage, and then said, “why do I have two dads?”

Malia almost dropped her face against the granite and quickly recovered, but she frowned and studied the counter for an answer. 

Noah’s expression turned concerned and he reached out a hand to take ahold of her blue shirt. “Mom?” he questioned, worry in his tone. 

Malia rallied a smile and ruffled Noah’s brown hair, so similar to her own. “I’m okay sweetie,” she promised, taking his small hand in hers. “Mommy just wasn’t expecting that.”

She bit her lip, unsure how to continue. It was a complicated story, especially for an eight year old. Though, Noah was smart, smarter than most kids his age. 

Her thoughts were cut off by Scott walking through the front door, yawning and exhausted, but eyes bright at seeing his family. “How is everyone?” he asked, walking up to Noah and kissing his head, then kissing Malia’s lips before he made his way to the fridge. 

“I asked mommy why I have two daddies, you and Stiles!” Noah said enthusiastically, toast forgotten.

Scott’s shoulders tensed and he froze, the milk carton half way to his mouth. He set it down near the sink and turned to lean against the counter, eyebrows furrowed. “And what did mommy say?” he asked, glancing at his wife and giving her a supportive smile.

“Mommy hasn’t gotten to answer,” she told them both, squeezing Noah’s hand and motioning Scott to come sit down with them with her a tilt of her head. 

Scott nodded and came over to them, feet dragging a bit. Malia felt badly for him, he had just worked the overnight shift at the veterinary hospital, and now he had to have a very important conversation with their son. He didn’t seem to mind though, pushing a chair in between them, pressing up against Malia comfortably. They were a team and this was doable, she told herself, trying to even her breathing. Scott patted her arm and their eyes met. His big brown gaze calmed her and made her feel safe. It always had, since they had first met in the woods. 

“It’s a long story, but we’ll try to tell you,” Scott explained jovially, no hint of belittling his son for his question. They didn’t believe in squashing their kid’s spirit or his inquisitiveness. 

Malia’s mind drifted back to the time in her father’s house, sitting on the toilet with a pregnancy test in hand when she was barely eighteen. The fear had been palpable then and she had started crying at the fact that this was too much to deal with. She and Stiles weren’t even together anymore, and now…now she was having a baby?

She was well aware she didn’t have to have the baby, but just the thought of not having it made her want to vomit. She was under no obligation to go through with this, she told herself, but her heart told her differently. Whether she hated Stiles or not, she still loved him, and no matter how afraid she was, she knew that having an abortion wasn’t for her. 

Shakily she stood up and slide back into her checkered dress, green and faded. Malia stared at her reflection in the mirror, cheek streaked with tears, face blotchy. Squaring her shoulders, she reached for her phone, and then set it back down. She struggled with who to turn to, who to tell. Malia knew she couldn’t tell Stiles or Lydia, because she couldn’t face destroying their happiness no matter how much they had destroyed hers. She couldn’t put Scott in a position to keep a secret from Stiles and Lydia, either. She pondered telling Hayden or Mason, but ultimately sunk to her bare knees in defeat. She was alone with no one to turn to. 

She shivered and held herself when suddenly she realized she wasn’t alone. There was one person who would help her, stand by her, accept her.

Wishing Kira hadn’t left her phone behind when she disappeared into the desert, Malia crept silently into her room and started to pack a duffle bag full of clothes. She stared at the pictures on her wall next to a math test with an 80% on it and a track ribbon. Her hands shook as she ripped pictures of her pack down and threw them in the bag, leaving the photos of just her and Stiles hanging lonely on the wall. 

Thinking of her poor father, she sighed and sat on her bed and rubbed her face in her hands. She didn’t have a choice, she told herself. She wasn’t running, she lied, she was going to a new life. 

Writing the goodbye note to her father was harder than leaving him the first time when she was eight years old. In it she happily wrote that she was visiting a friend and wasn’t coming back for a while and wouldn’t have service. She left it on her pillow and snuck out her window, landing gracefully on her feet in the new grass. She would miss all the green of Beacon Hills. 

In her pocket was her phone and the pregnancy test. She tossed the test into the neighbor’s garbage and started walking to the bus station because she still couldn’t drive. Cursing her inability and the fact that it was making her spend money, she sighed and told herself that she wouldn’t need the money where she was going, anyway. 

When she got to the station she sent four texts. To the Stiles’s dad she said, ‘thank you for taking care of me.’

To Stiles, Lydia, and Scott she sent, ‘Bye guys. Love you.’

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, she threw away her phone and boarded the bus. Out the window was her home for all of her life, and she was never coming back. It hurt in her gut, and an urge to throw herself out of the bus overcame her but she fought it off. 

She could do this, she thought as the bus’s engine started up. “Goodbye,” she whispered as the bus lurched forward. Her vision blurred and she hung her head, face covered by her hair. She thought of Scott and what could have been and the kindness he’d always showed her. Her feelings for Scott were nothing, now. Her feelings for Stiles were more than nothing. 

She wrapped her arms around her stomach and cried while the bus took her away from everything she’d ever loved.


	2. Chapter 2

The bus puttered away and Malia watched it leave, wondering if her heart was still sitting in her seat without her. 

People had left her alone on the bus. The only person that seemed to notice her was an old woman with long grey hair. Their eyes had met when she got off the bus, alone with one bag of luggage in the middle of nowhere. She had frowned at Malia but nodded, as if giving her permission. Usually Malia would have scoffed at that, instead she had taken it as a sign and squared her shoulders. 

Her hands itched to text someone, to call her father, but instead she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her dress and kicked at the dirt road. Dust flew up and she wished for the woods and her fur coat. Malia had made the right choice. She was glad she had thrown her phone away in distress, that she had been strong enough to form a clean cut from her old life. 

The wind picked up, tossing her hair about her face and covered her eyes for a moment. She pushed it away and saw figures out in the desert, staring at her. They were only dots, but she heard Kira’s heartbeat, and that was all that mattered to Malia. She shouldered her bag and started towards them, not wanting to run and get dehydrated. 

After maybe an hour walk, the skin walkers and Kira were in view. The sun had beaten her down, made her knees ache and her mouth dry. All there had been was mounds of yellow sand and the figures growing ever closer.

Kira’s hair was blonde with dust, face smeared with it. Malia dropped to her knees, bag thumping against the sand. She could show weakness now, in the face of strangers and Kira. She didn’t have much bravado to fake. Kira looked at the skin walker farthest away from her, and the woman looked at Malia. That must have communicated something; but Malia was too distracted that Kira was right there, after a year of not seeing her. Kira ran to her and dropped in front of Malia, hugging her tightly. Malia wanted to scream in joy, in frustration. She had so much to tell her, so much she didn’t want to say. 

“Are you okay?” Kira asked, before rolling her eyes at herself and glancing at Malia’s bag. “Of course you aren’t, I just meant...do you need anything?” 

Kira’s aura was more controlled but she was still her Kira, stumbling over her words. Malia let out a burst of air, almost a chuckle and shook her head. “I’m fine.” Perhaps it was a lie, but Malia didn’t have the will power to self-analysis after the two day trek she’d had. 

Kira looked at her, dubious, but keep her hold on Malia in the audience of the skin walkers. Malia felt hope, however small, in the mountain of fear. 

She realized that Kira didn’t even know why she was here, but had welcomed her all the same. A tear slipped down her face, dirty and ragged. 

“Come on,” Kira said, tugging at her hands and pulling her up. “We’ll talk after you eat.”

The thought of food made her stomach gurgle and she conceded, walking past the skin walkers. She hadn’t eaten the whole trip and had still spent the morning dry heaving into the bus toilet. She looked at her stomach and sighed. First she had missed her period, then the next couple days she thought she had had the stomach flu with how much she had vomited. Pregnancy was a bitch and she hadn’t wanted to deal with it on the trip. Now that she was safe, however, her body begged for food. 

Her bag dragged in the sand, too heavy to lift. Kira picked it up with easy and flung it over her back while smiling at Malia. 

Malia smiled back. 

~~~~~

“So…what’s going on?” Kira said, peeking over at Malia as they lay on their backs. The stars were so much brighter here than in the city, Malia thought, trying to ignore the question. She thought of the woods and remembered the darkness. The densely packed trees barely let any light through, and she hadn’t needed any with her were-eyes. 

She itched to run, to leap, to change into a coyote and feel freedom. But would the baby be able to handle that kind of change? She doubted it. 

Malia grumbled towards the sky and looked at Kira. The soft moon illuminated her face, casting shadows on her cheeks. She wasn’t looking at Malia, she serenely kept her eyes closed and waited. Malia always came to Kira, and Kira knew it. She didn’t need to beg or drag it out of her, like Lydia would have. 

Thinking of Lydia made her more sour than she thought it would and she turned on her side to face Kira. Kira heard her move and turned her face towards Malia and smiled and Malia found her own spirits lifting. She weighed telling Kira a part of the truth or the whole truth, and landed on simply displaying all her cards. She hated it, but she needed help. 

“I’m pregnant,” Malia said. It was like burning on her tongue. 

Kira’s eyes snapped open. She tried to keep the shock in, but her face was so expressive that she gaped at Malia before nodding seriously. 

“So… you ran to me because…?” Kira asked, cocking her head to the side, hair swaying against the sand. “Not that I’m not glad you did, but you had easier access to everyone else.”

“It’s Stiles’s,” she whispered, the heaviness of it like lead in her stomach. Saying it out loud was so much worse than thinking it over and over in her head. 

Kira’s soft hand took hers and Malia caught her friend’s supportive smile. “We’ll be okay,” she said, grip tightening.

Malia rested her head against their hands. She had feared that Kira might not understand, but those fears were unfounded. Where would she have gone, with all her hopes hanging on Kira's shoulders? 

A tear mushed into their fingers and she gave her friend a wobbly smile. 

She was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review and comment!


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